Marrying the Playboy Doctor - By Laura Iding Page 0,23
professionals play every Sunday.”
“Hmm.” She picked up a towel and began drying the dishes he’d stacked in the sink. “I should take you up on that.”
“Football was always a big game at our house,” he explained. “My dad used to coach our high school team. My oldest brother Caleb was a better player than I was, and my sister Tess was a cheerleader. We always spent every single Sunday watching the game on television, no exceptions.”
Kylie smiled. “Your mother must have been a saint to put up with all of you watching football.”
“Nah, she didn’t mind so much. Honestly, I think she learned to love the game, too. Maybe just because my dad did.” Seth finished washing and rinsing the dishes and took the towel from her hands to dry his own. Instead of giving it back, he took over the task of drying dishes. “When my dad died, the summer before my junior year of high school, we were pretty shocked. Caleb had already been accepted into college, but he tried to back out. Mom wouldn’t hear of it. She insisted he go. So he compromised by changing the campus he’d planned to attend so he’d be closer to home. Tess and I went back to high school in the fall, but it wasn’t the same without him.”
Kylie’s hand lightly rested on his arm. “That must have been hard for you, losing your father so young. Especially since he was such a big part of your life.”
“It was. But we hung together, and Mom was great. When she died unexpectedly six months ago…” He shook his head. “That was almost worse, because she was pretty much the rock that had held us together.”
“Oh, Seth.” Kylie’s eyes softened with empathy. “I’m so sorry.”
He tried to smile. “Yeah. I loved her. But I’m also a little ticked at her. Because after going through a box of family photos I discovered my dad—the one who died when I was in high school—wasn’t really my biological father after all.”
“What? Are you sure?” Kylie looked shocked.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” He finished drying the dishes and tossed the damp towel on the counter. “And I don’t like being angry at my mother, especially when she’s not here to defend herself, but I am.”
“How do you know he wasn’t your father?”
“Because I found a wedding picture and a marriage certificate for my mom and an Air Force pilot named Shane Andre. He died a few weeks after I was born.”
Her mouth formed a small O. “And you never knew?”
“No. I never knew. Throughout my whole life I believed Gregory Taylor was my father.” He struggled to keep the bitterness out of his tone.
“My gosh. Your stepfather must have adopted you, since your last name is Taylor, but I wonder why your mother chose to keep it a secret?” Kylie asked, her brows puckering together in a slight frown.
“I don’t know.” He stared at her for a moment. “You’re a single mother, like my mom was. What have you told Ben about his father? Does he know the truth?”
She paled and took a step back, looking distressed. “No, he doesn’t know the truth. Not really. But it isn’t the same situation at all.”
He couldn’t help looking grim, because to him it felt the same. “You mean you’re not ever going to tell Ben the truth?”
Her gaze narrowed, and her voice practically shimmered with anger. “Don’t you dare pass judgment on me,” she hissed in a low voice. “Will I tell him the truth? Probably not. But it’s not as if Ben’s father died in a plane crash—a situation clearly beyond his control. Ben’s father walked out, abandoning his own son before he was born. Do you really expect me to tell a six-year-old that his father left the moment I went into labor, leaving me all alone without a birthing coach?”
Her tone rose in agitation and he sent a worried glance toward the kitchen door, hoping Ben wouldn’t come in.
“Those hours of labor were awful, and then the doctor told me Ben was breech and would need to be delivered via C-section. Which only worried me more. But I didn’t have anyone to talk to. No one to comfort me as I went through surgery, praying my baby would be all right.”
Her voice was literally shaking, and he felt like a jerk for upsetting her. He reached for her, but she hastily stepped away, wincing as she bumped her hip hard against the kitchen counter. “Kylie, I’m sorry.